The Big Thaw. When We Should Be Shivering

It’s February. 

We had snow, we had ice, we had wind and now, suddenly the temperature has shot up.  Nine degrees Celsius, 11C, now 14C. It might as well be April. In a week going from bucking the car through snow to slopping through puddles and squidgy soft mud.  The maple syrup has started running early so we have to make sure not to miss Maple in the County, the weekend we can all stuff ourselves at the sugar shacks with pancakes and sausages slathered with as much maple syrup and butter as we can load on.

One week covered with ice and snow.

The geese are flying north in squadrons and now there is a contingent standing around on the slushy pond ice  in the field hoping for a swim which might come sooner than they think.  Another band has landed in the pasture nearby, poking hopefully about for something green to devour. Robins are appearing, though there hardy sorts that stay around all winter, eating seeds and berries instead of unreachable frozen worms. The squirrels are getting frisky, chasing each other from tree to tree probably in romantic pursuit. Indoors, the cats have also started galloping about and pressing their little wistful faces against the glass doors wishing they could go out.  I wish they could too but there are fishers, hawks, foxes, coyotes, wolves, even a pair of eagles  not to mention the road zooming with speed demon, cat squishing drivers. It’s hungry season out there.  To stay alive, they stay inside.

Next week its balmy time. Snow all gone. Temperature masquerading as April.

Disappearing roadside snowbanks reveal the things tossed from cars including coffee cups, beer cans and booze bottles.  The entomologists tell us that the insects parading up the window panes are here to stay. The first of the spandex clad cyclists have already flashed past, their bikes out of storage, their ambitions brightly on view.

But, it’s still February! Traditionally, the coldest days of the summer are in this month, into the minus 20sC. We supposed to be worrying about our wells freezing and our mailboxes buried in snow. Some of the best logging has been in March when winter thick ice supports skidders in all the swampy places.  Yet folks are out in shorts and running shoes. 

Just a whim of mother nature?  Or climate change?  Hmmmmm…..


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